


in thought constructs a miracle

by curlyfries



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Strangers to Lovers, Travel, University Student Harry, also I forgot Zayn, just some explicit kissing and removing of shirts, only brief mentions of Liam and Niall sorry, the documentary gets lost in the middle oops what documentary, there's like explicitly implied sex but no sex is actually written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 14:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6858370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlyfries/pseuds/curlyfries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry struggled to yank the camera out of his backpack without dragging out everything else too. With a grunt, Harry emerged victorious, cheering as he turned it on and pointed it out the window. He could see his reflection in the window, and waved to the camera with a cheeky smile before turning it off again. Louis kept the conversation going, starting with a discussion on their families, and moving on to food, music and finally Harry’s trip. After half an hour of chatter, Louis forwent his window seat in favour of the seat beside Harry. At this close distance Louis couldn’t really stare at Harry’s lips without being caught, and so he made an actual effort to look into Harry’s eyes. Harry was having exactly the same problem. He was losing his train of thought while staring into Louis’ eyes, and he had to keep pinching himself to remind himself to look away. </p><p>Before they even realised, three hours had passed and the Eurostar was pulling into Paris.</p><p>Or, the one where Harry is assigned to walk from Paris, France to Bilbao, Spain as a documentary project. He meets Louis on the way and when Louis asks to tag along, Harry knows it's fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in thought constructs a miracle

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! :) Firstly, I hope you like it! It's been such a pleasure to be part of such a great team of writers and it's so great to be supporting these fantastic charities.
> 
> I had hoped to make it longer but as a devotee to procrastination I maybe accidentally left it to the last minute. Oops! Also, most of the geography in this regarding their physical trip is accurate, as I made a detailed plan of each stop however I took a few liberties sometimes with the time it would take to get places. I also might have been projecting during the Paris section because a lot of the things that I wrote about I experienced while there. Oops? Hope it’s not too terrible in that bit. 
> 
> The title is from Allen Ginsberg's poem 'Song' and I'd like to thank my lovely beta El, for without her this wouldn't be possible. Also to B & L for listening to my whinging.

Harry had made some poor choices in his life. When he was 10, he’d thought it was a good idea to ride a skateboard down a steep hill. Needless to say, when he woke up in the hospital with a broken arm, his mum wasn’t impressed. Then at 16 he decided to make out with the captain of the football team at a party in front of his entire year. When he moved schools later that year after his mum got a new job, it was a blessing in disguise. Harry wouldn’t consider moving to London for university a poor choice. Neither would he count choosing Photography to study. But maybe, after his brand new assignment, he would think about including his choice of electives in that list. It wasn’t that Documentary Film Studies was a bad course, and his Professor wasn’t terrible either. But when Professor Armstrong clapped his hands cheerfully and announced that they would be drawing their assessment topics out of a hat today, (“isn’t that great it will be so fun”) Harry was not impressed. Their theme was ‘self-discovery’, to be completed over the summer holidays. Harry hoped the task was open to interpretation, because he could think of some dodgy topics that could be sitting in that bowler hat (“honestly, Professor, fedoras are where it’s at” “thank you Harry, but I am no longer 20 and trying to be hip”), just waiting for a poor sod to stick their hand in.

But maybe the worst decision he ever made was digging his right hand to the bottom of the hat, swishing it around for a second and pulling out a slim piece of white paper, folded in half. The words that were written on that piece of paper changed his life forever, to get introspective for a moment. So maybe it should go on the other list. The list of things that Harry would cherish forever. He had no idea where he’d end up when he started the 522 miles from Paris, France to Bilbao, Spain, but the documentation of his self-discovery went further beyond ‘physical’ than Harry could’ve imagined.

In the interest of integrity, he won’t spoil the ending right now, but he will say that he came to love the expedition, though the exhaustion he began to feel after only two days was very real. After class that day Harry stayed behind to ask Armstrong some questions because honestly? The little slip of paper that dictated his (arduous) journey was kind of vague. Obviously he was meant to film it; it was Film Studies after all, but for how long? And when? And what was he actually supposed to film? But Professor Armstrong was literally no help – “it’s up to you, Harry,” and “it’s an interpretive assignment, Harry, I’d hope you have some creativity in that big brain of yours.” Harry forced a strained smile and thanked him for his time. He shouldered his bag, sighed and left the classroom, his mind running a mile a minute on the walk home trying to think of “creative ideas to stimulate the chakras of the journey.” The man looked so excited as he said it, Harry didn’t have the heart to tell Professor Armstrong he’d used that word incorrectly.

When Harry got back to his dorm, he flopped face first onto his bed and closed his eyes. He knew he really should get started on his trip plan. It did have to be approved, after all. But he just couldn’t be bothered to get up. Why expend energy (and actually get something done) when he could just nap? Procrastination 101, he thought drily. Harry heaved himself off the bed with a groan and fetched his notebook from his bag. In all capitals, with bold strokes he wrote ‘PARIS-BILBAO FILM STUDIES’. And then a sad face in the corner. The laptop that had been resting on the floor beside his bed was propped open against his thigh and Maps was open. After hours of research, he had outlined each stop. He planned to avoid public transport where possible, as his assignment was to ‘walk’ but he knew that there would be some occasions when it was necessary. He estimated 15 days to make it to Spain, but he added an extra two days to chill out in Bilbao. The Guggenheim was at the top of his to-visit list. 

The next day he gave the plan, now typed and professional looking, to Armstrong during class along with everyone else. It was a week until he would leave. He planned to take the next week of classes to spend time with his family before he’d be gone for three weeks. Anne had been a bit teary when Harry had explained the assignment, but after some reassurance that “yes, I’ve got insurance mum” and “yes, I’ll be careful,” and “no, I won’t shack up with a stranger and not come home,” she had gotten on board. And despite the university’s insistence that the students ‘are always learning’, the Professors were slowing down post-exams. So Harry wasn’t bothered with skipping a few lectures and tutorials. Besides, he had spoken to a few friends and their assignments had been decidedly nicer than Harry’s, so he felt justified in wanting time with his parents (maybe also to cry because this was just going to be so much effort, but that wasn’t important). That night when he was packing his bag, his dorm mate and best friend Liam came stumbling in. Harry could smell the cheap alcohol on him but still welcomed the hug Liam was determined to give him. 

“Whatcha doing Haz?” Liam swayed on his feet slightly, and Harry wound an arm around his waist to steady him. Liam nuzzled his head into Harry’s shoulder and the stench of alcohol and sweat was potent. He stifled a sigh and led Liam over to his bed and sat him down heavily. 

“I’m packing Li,” he replied, shuffling back over to his side of the room and folding some more t-shirts. 

“Oh yeah,” Liam slurred, “you’ve got that – that thing with the walking and stuff, yeah,” he rambled while waving his hand in the air, trying to illustrate his point.

“Yeah,” Harry laughed, “that thing. I’ll be gone for a few weeks, remember? I’m leaving for Cheshire early tomorrow morning so I’ll say goodbye now. I think you’ll be a bit too hungover tomorrow to see me off.”

Liam nodded agreeably. He exhaled deeply and wriggled until he was starfished over the covers. “I’ll miss you, bro. Have a good time.” He punctuated his drowsy goodbye with a yawn before falling asleep. Harry just smiled at him softly and finished packing before he too turned in for the night.

The next morning Harry was up just after the sun, sparing a fond glance to Liam’s spreadeagled and snoring form, grabbing his duffle bag and walking speedily to the nearest train station. He stopped by a little café on the way, picking up a peppermint tea, a blueberry muffin and a breakfast sandwich. Despite the trip only taking three hours, the changeover in Crewe was a close call. He almost missed his connection, but made the jump at the last moment, almost slipping on the wet floor and into the gap. His solitude was made more bearable by his food, his music and his worn moleksine. 

When he reached the other side he breathed in a deep lungful of fresh air, a stark contrast to the heavy pollution of the London sky. The picturesque rolling hills and familiar landscape released tension from Harry’s shoulders he didn’t even realise was there. He smiled while softly closing his eyes, basking in the feeling of recognition and contentment that permeated his whole being. A happy sigh was released and Harry strode out of the station towards the bus shelter. On the way to his childhood home, Harry flicked through his phone. He opened the Notes app, tapping on his packing list. A mental check mark was placed next to each item he was certain he had. When he was done, he looked out the bus window and his eyes widened. He lunged towards the stop button, pressing it just in time as the vehicle rolled to a standstill. A smile and ‘thanks’ were sent the driver’s way as he hauled his bag over his shoulder and wandered down the street. Coming to a stop outside his mum’s house he noticed his sister Gemma’s car in the driveway. The thud of his footsteps on the concrete was loud as he bounded up the front steps and knocked wildly on the door. It swung open to reveal a smiling face with the same dimples as Harry.

“Mum!” He exclaimed, dropping his bag roughly to the ground and embracing Anne with a wide grin. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, honey,” she replied warmly, stepping out of the doorway to encourage Harry inside. Immediately the smell of a warm home-cooked meal wafted through his nose and he inhaled deeply. God, it was good to be home. A happy shout from upstairs could be heard, followed by quick steps that got closer and louder. The air was pushed out of his lungs with the force of his sister’s hug. He buried his face in her apple-scented hair and held on tight. Eventually they let go, and after a quick hug from Robin, Harry headed up to his room. The cluttered space was still familiar to him, everything in the same place he left it two years ago, eyes wide as he examined the space. With a short exhalation he collapsed back onto his bed, bag left by its side. He figured now was as good a time as any to film his introduction. He sat up with a groan and reached inside his duffel for his camera and tripod. Another quick glance around the room told him that it was probably a bit dusty and dirty, but he just shrugged and figured his class would have to deal with it.

He adjusted the tripod to the right angle. And then again for no reason other than nerves. The camera was already rolling but he was picking at the hem of his shirt and working a thread loose, unsure what to say. An errant curl fell in front of his eyes, brushing it back before smiling nervously into the lens. He makes a mental note to edit this out later.

“Hi. So…” He took a deep breath. “This is my documented self-discovery for Professor Armstrong’s Film Studies class. The assignment I, unfortunately, picked out of the hat was the challenge of physical discovery: backpacking from Paris, France to Bilbao, Spain. Basically, my friend Niall is down in Bilbao on exchange at the moment, so I’m going to catch up with him while I’m there. He has no idea I’m coming, so hopefully it’ll be a happy surprise.” He smiled widely, nerves mostly forgotten. “Oh and m’name is Harry. Styles. Harry Styles, shit, right, forgot to mention that.” He suddenly paused, “wait, am I allowed to swear? Oh well, sorry Professor,” Harry shrugged sheepishly. “Anyway, I’m leaving in a week – taking the train back down to London before the Eurostar to Paris. Mum panicked a bit and bought me the tickets after worrying about my safety. It’s a bit out of my way since I was just hoping to follow the coast down but I’ve adjusted a little. That would’ve been a bit hard with the like, shape of France, and it would’ve been less direct. So I’m following this bike and train route down. I’ve given myself just over two weeks to make the journey, accounting for rests and stuff. Mum’s also given me an allowance,” he chuckled at that, “and I’ve decided to film mostly in the morning and evening. So, I guess that’s it for now, and I’ll see you later.” With that, he switched off the camera and headed downstairs for his first mum-cooked meal in months.

The week passed much too quickly for Harry’s liking, and before he knew it, it was Sunday night and his family was crowded into a corner of Holmes Chapel station. His mum was getting teary, which meant he could feel his eyes watering but there was really no need for any tears.

“I’ll only be gone for three weeks, mum. It’s not like I’m going to war.”

“I know, but you’re my baby,” she frowned, squishing his cheeks between her hands, “and I’m going to miss you. Please stay safe.” Harry mumbled back an “I’ll miss you too” before he was passed off to Gemma. After a second round of hugs, Anne deemed it acceptable for Harry to leave the platform. The conductor’s whistle blew as Harry found a seat, and as the train pulled out from the station he waved until they were just tiny specks in the distance. It was nearly almost time and Harry couldn’t believe it. He had always wanted to travel but never had the opportunity. So maybe he wasn’t regretting the assignment he’d selected after all. 

A quick three hours and one change over later, he was back in his dorm room going through his huge backpack one more time. Tent? Check. Toiletries? Check. Enough clothes for a week before he’d have to wash? Check. Fifty batteries and SD cards? Double check. He tested the weight of his pack on his shoulders. A bit heavy, but that would just get him fitter faster, he supposed. One last glance over his equipment and his room, and he let it go. Tried to let his nerves and worries out so he could get one last good night’s sleep. He rolled under the covers and peeked over at Liam’s sleeping form. A flick of a switch and the room was plunged into darkness. Harry closed his eyes and let sleep wash over him. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

In the morning, Harry was rushing around like a headless chicken, spilling his unnecessary worries to anyone who would listen. Right up until he had to leave he was complaining that he “was sure to have forgotten something” despite everyone placating him with “you can probably just buy it over there”. Then Harry would explain that he needed to save his money for the hostels. His audience would cluck their tongues in sympathy and move on, leaving Harry to spin around and find his next victim.

By the time his train was drawing near, Harry was a mess. It took Liam ages just to get him in the car; Harry was so certain he’d forgotten a super vital item. By the fourth time, Liam was convinced Harry was just stalling. So the next time Harry sat down in the passenger’s seat Liam locked the door and pulled out from the kerb. Harry paled when he realised this finally meant they were on their way. At the terminal, Harry was pulled into a fierce hug by Liam (who he could’ve sworn let out a small sniffle, but would forever deny it) and was pushed on his way. His passport was stamped and he was seated. This was really it – the beginning. This was where his life began to change. 

As he prepared for the train to take off, taking off his heavy raincoat and stowing it and his backpack under his feet, a man flopped down into the seat opposite him. He had already pulled out his camera, ready to film leaving the station, and the abruptness of his company’s presence had Harry jumping in his seat. Automatically, in his shock, his camera swung round to capture the man and their inevitable meeting. The guy opposite him did in fact look up at that moment, and Harry’s breath caught in his throat. He gave Harry a kind smile while busying himself and getting comfortable. The man quickly glanced at the camera, saw the flashing recording light and granted Harry another smile, although clearly uncomfortable.

“You alright, mate?” He finally asked, eyes darting between Harry’s face and the camera in his hand. Harry was shaken out of his trance by the moving of the train, and his face reddened when he realised he’d been asked a question.

“Um yeah, I’m fine, sorry. I didn’t mean to – I’ll just put it away now,” Harry gestured lamely to his camera. His seat buddy just nodded and looked out the window. After Harry had zipped up his bag he found the man looking at him again. He held a hand out and introduced himself.

“I’m Louis, Louis Tomlinson.” He had a firm grip and soft fingers, was Harry’s first thought, which was a bit odd. Not the attracted-to-a-male part. No, he’d understood that for years. It was more the spark of connection Harry had felt when they’d gripped hands. He hadn’t felt genuine attraction for someone that quickly in so long. Harry hoped it wasn’t just influenced by his unintentional dry spell. But that was why he’d packed that little toiletries bag in the bottom of his bag – hopefully, on this trip he could fix that.

“Harry Styles. It’s a pleasure,” he smiled back. Harry held on to Louis’ hand for a beat too long and dropped it back into his lap, the warmth of Louis’ skin bizarrely missed. Louis stared at Harry for a moment in silence.

“So what’s with the camera?”

“Pardon?”

“The camera,” Louis gestured to Harry’s pack, “the one you were pointing at me. What are you doing with it?” Harry’s eyes brightened and a grin tugged at his mouth.

“Well it’s for a university project, for my film studies class. I have to document a physical change about myself, culminating in a self-discovery kind-of-thing.” Louis was nodding along with genuine interest, which Harry appreciated. He was very much coming to the conclusion that he liked Louis; despite the all but five minutes they’d been talking. 

“What’s the journey you’re documenting then? Is it something spectacular? Oh are you going to shave all that hair off?” Louis looked excited at that prospect, almost bouncing up and down in his seat. Harry could feel the rocking in the chair’s frame, and Harry would’ve giggled if he wasn’t feeling offended about his hair. He ran a hand through it with a frown on his face. Louis could tell he’d hit a nerve, and hurried to fix his mistake. “No, no, I don’t think it’s bad or anything.” His hands waved placatingly in front of him, trying to reassure Harry. “I think it’s quite lovely, actually. And it looks very soft, so I’m sure you take very good care of it. I didn’t mean to offend you, I’m really sorry, I just thought maybe, like, because it’s so long that was your plan?” The words were rushing out of his mouth at this point, and he really hoped Harry had plans to stop him soon, because he didn’t like this word vomit. “But obviously you can have long hair these days, that’s totally not a problem and also none of my business –“ Louis was cut off by Harry’s giggles. Louis’ increasing dramatics had quickly gotten Harry over whatever offence he had taken, especially with his clear sincerity.

“It’s fine Louis. I promise.” Harry offered up a smile as a truce. He took Louis’ answering beam as acceptance.

“You never did tell me what journey you’re travelling,” Louis picked the conversation back up.

“Maybe I would have, if you hadn’t so rudely offended me,” Harry smirked to show he was teasing. “I have to walk from Paris to Bilbao during my holidays.”

“That sounds a bit shit,” Louis stated bluntly. It shocked a laugh out of Harry, who threw a hand over his mouth to block the bark of laughter that escaped.  
“Yeah, it’s not the greatest assignment – some of my classmates got the easiest things. It was luck of the draw though, unfortunately. I drew it out of a hat. And I checked with my professor, I can use public transport where necessary and I can stay in hostels, but like, camping will be cheaper.”

“Wow, you’ve thought of everything,” Louis said, sounding impressed. Inside he was a little sceptical about this whole ‘walking’ thing, but he didn’t want to discourage or offend (again) his new friend.

“Well of course, I’m going to be wandering through foreign countries by myself. I need to know what I’m doing. Or really,” Harry laughed, “my mum needs to know what I’m doing.” Louis chuckled along, knowing too well the protective nature of a mother.

“I know what you mean. I’m 22 and my mum still doesn’t want me to go travelling alone.”

“Is that what you’re doing on your journey?” Harry hoped, maybe a little selfishly, that Louis was going to be in Paris for at least that night, so they could hang out. And if, during this night out, the two of them happened to stumble into a hotel room, Harry wouldn’t be complaining. 

“Sort of. I like to have a change of scenery for a month or so before I have to go back to school for another year, and France was just close. I don’t really have much of a plan though, which is giving my mum a heart attack. I’m just happy to go with the flow, though.” Louis smiled at Harry, the two bonding over motherly love, and turned to look out the window again. “The scenery is blurring by so fast,” he murmured to himself.

It was only at that moment that Harry realised he never got the shot of the train leaving the station. Inwardly cursing, Harry struggled to yank the camera out of his backpack without dragging out everything else too. With a grunt, Harry emerged victorious, cheering as he turned it on and pointed it out the window. He could see his reflection in the window, and waved to the camera with a cheeky smile before turning it off again. Louis was smiling at Harry again, with a look dangerously close to ‘fond’ in his eyes. Louis kept the conversation going, starting with a discussion on their families, and moving on to food, music and finally Harry’s trip. After half an hour of chatter, Louis forwent his window seat in favour of the seat beside Harry. At this close distance Louis couldn’t really stare at Harry’s lips without being caught, and so he made an actual effort to look into Harry’s eyes. But this was just as bad, he realised, because Harry had really beautiful green eyes. A bright green, occasionally grey, they had enraptured Louis and he couldn’t look away. Harry was having exactly the same problem. He was losing his train of thought while staring into Louis’ eyes, and he had to keep pinching himself to remind himself to look away. But then his eyes would get caught on Louis’ lips, or his nose, or the freckles on his cheek. Louis was just very distracting, Harry thought.

Before they even realised, the three hours had passed and the Eurostar was pulling into Paris. Harry pressed his face and hands against the window, eyes widening in excitement. He could feel Louis’ eyes on the back of his head, and when he turned around there was a soft look on his face that Harry couldn’t help but mirror. Harry whipped out his phone, and motioned Louis closer. Once their sides were pressed together Harry opened the camera app, and in the display Harry could see the moment Louis understood. He shot Harry an exasperated look but transformed his face into a grin that Harry could see was also present on his own face. The warmth of having Louis so close was addictive, and Harry already knew he could get used to the feeling. The sound of the shutter broke the silence that had descended and Harry’s hand was suddenly empty, Louis snatching his phone from him as soon as the picture was taken. He pulled up Harry’s messages, opening a new text and typing his number. The picture was attached and the message sent with a ping. Louis sent Harry a sheepish smile and held his phone back out. 

“At least now you have my number?” Louis shrugged and Harry just shook his head in amusement. At that moment, the overhead speaker crackled to life, a male voice spilling out rapid French. Around them, the other occupants of the carriage began moving, shuffling sluggishly. Harry and Louis paused, stares fixed on the other and unsure of where their interactions would go from there. Louis moved first, softly laying a hand on Harry’s forearm and leaning in.

“Where are you staying?” Harry was so entranced by the movement of Louis’ lips he almost missed the question.

“I haven’t figured it out yet,” he mumbled in reply. Harry was startled out of his daze, however, with Louis’ next words.

“Do you want to stay with me?” Louis was rubbing his neck awkwardly. “Like, I’ve got a room in this hostel and I couldn’t get a single so I asked for a double. Meaning there’s an extra bed? And so I thought maybe we could explore Paris together? And then maybe we could discuss me coming with you on your adventure?” Harry’s heart was rabbiting out of his chest, and he swore it stopped beating at Louis’ last sentence.

“You want to come with me?” He asked, already imagining how much fun they’d have together, exploring all the cities. Then his mind wandered a little, picturing how close he and Louis would be in his cramped tent with body heat to keep them warm. He could admit to himself that he really liked this idea. Louis nodded his head in response and Harry beamed. “I’d really like that,” he looked down as he responded, cheeks reddening and dimples popping. His response prompted their movement from their seats, quickly making their way off the train and onto the platform. 

They both looked around in wonderment, taking in the fast pace of the station, both of the people and the language. Rapid French encompassed the boys on all sides, and Harry closed his eyes to really soak it all in. It was fantastic. He was ecstatic. This was going to be the best time of his life. Louis let him take his time, waiting patiently (and maybe fondly) for Harry to reopen his eyes to the world. When they were ready they exited the busy hub and Louis pulled out his phone.

“I took a picture of the route I need to take to get to the hostel back home. Thought it might be easier than trying to get a taxi.” Harry thought this was so smart of Louis. And then he realised how much of a teenager-with-his-first-crush that made him sound like and quickly retracted the statement from his mind. But honestly, Harry was completely prepared to follow Louis around like a puppy dog, especially when he realised Louis could speak French when he recited the street names under his breath.

Eventually they made it to the hostel, and it was practically in the heart of the city. Harry had no idea how Louis had been able to afford it; the room must have been so expensive! He definitely knew he was going to sneak half the room’s rent into Louis’ bag when he wasn’t noticing. It was only fair. Plus it was only for the night. Harry’s mum had given him a bit of extra money specifically for his first stop in Paris. He wanted to go all out and do as many touristy things as possible. He only hoped that Louis felt the same.

About a quarter of Harry’s first memory card had been filled up already. Harry had his camera out for the entire journey to the hostel. He couldn’t help it; he just wanted to remember everything. He knew it was one thing to experience it firsthand, and completely different on a screen, but he was a photographer. He had an obsessive need to capture every moment. The honks of cars, buses and scooters on the roads; the locals smoking and eating on the sidewalk; even every single building they passed. Fortunately, Louis didn’t seem to mind featuring on the video, even pulling a few funny faces when he noticed the camera on him. Harry was mindful of the fact that he was supposed to be documenting himself though, and so every few minutes he’d turn the camera to face himself and capture his expression. Most of the time it was either a broad grin or wide-eyed in amazement. Already Harry knew how absolutely awesome this adventure was going to be. He couldn’t help but steal a quick glance at his new travel buddy and think to himself how lucky he was to have Louis coming with him.

After a brief moment inside their hostel room, the two of them ventured back outside and paused under the awning of the hostel. Harry was gaping at the scenery surrounding him, but turned to Louis when he felt eyes on the side of his head.

“Where did you want to go?” Louis asked, throwing his arm out wide to gesture to the broad Paris landscape. As he did so, a tall man in a business suit bustled past, just missing getting hit in the face by Louis. The man shot Louis a dirty look, and he tried to apologise but couldn’t be heard over Harry’s giggles that were spilling past the hand that covered his mouth. Besides, the man was already out of earshot. Though from then on, Louis kept his gesticulating to a minimum. Once the humorous moment had passed, Louis turned back to Harry with a raised brow. “Well?” He enquired again.

Harry bit his lip shyly. “I had kind of intended Paris to be my tourist stop, you know? So I have a list of a bunch of touristy attractions I wanted to see before I left tomorrow. Do you think we’d still be able to do that?” Louis was nodding thoughtfully even before Harry finished. 

“Let’s see the list then,” Louis said, holding out his hand. Harry dug around in one of the many pockets of his pants and procured a crumpled list. He gave it to Louis, who studied for a minute, mentally calculating the best route to get to all of the attractions. “Hmm,” he murmured, “I think it’s possible.” He lifted his head to Harry again. Harry’s breath caught in his throat, just like when they first met only hours ago. Louis was just so beautiful. Harry only now thought of how much pain he had just promised himself now that Louis was accompanying him. Hopefully it would all be worth it.

“Okay, so our hostel is closest to the Arc de Triomphe and Champs-Élysées,” he pointed to them on the map he had whipped out of thin air. “So we can start here. Then, we can walk back to the Seine, which should take us under an hour,” Harry followed Louis’ finger as it weaved over the map, completely content to trust his opinion. “There’s a river boat stop here, which is pretty close to the Tower. If we catch one over here, it’ll take us to the Louvre. Then, catch one back, say hey to the Eiffel Tower and we find dinner. Does that sound okay?” Louis suddenly looked nervous, and Harry couldn’t fathom why. He had honestly lost himself in Louis’ voice, but he knew that whatever Louis chose for them would be perfect. He seemed to know what he was doing – a seasoned traveller, if you will, and Harry was just excited to experience all the things Louis could show him. So he nodded reassuringly, and curled his palm around Louis’ forearm.

“It sounds perfect.” Harry gave him his best cheesy grin and gently steered them both in what he hoped was the right direction. 

Harry withdrew his camera from the confines of his bag only a few minutes into their walk. He was conscious of memory space, but was just so overwhelmed that he couldn’t help but to want to document everything. He filmed himself and Louis walking, the sights they passed and the people they came into contact with. The camera recorded his gasp as they came into view of the famous arch. Harry was gobsmacked. More because it was so famous, he thought, rather than its size and decoration. It was still completely impressive though. Half consciously he swung the camera around to capture his and Louis’ faces. They had stopped in the middle of the footpath, and the locals were not happy. Even in the afternoon, when people should still have been at work, it was busy. Maybe it was always busy, Harry mused. They got as close as they dared to the teeming and honestly frightening roundabout, taking a myriad of selfies and short videos to send to their mums. 

Carefully, they made their way around the outside of the busy area and onto the avenue of the Champs-Élysées. Harry dragged Louis into shop after shop, marvelling (and maybe lamenting) the merging of high-end and lower class shops – Tiffany’s and McDonalds, Louis Vuitton and H&M. Louis had to remind Harry multiple times that he wouldn’t be able to walk around with arms laden with shopping bags. He couldn’t resist everything though, a couple of t-shirts stashed in his backpack, and maybe a little gift for Louis too. After wandering down the other side of the huge thoroughfare, they broke off into one of the side streets and ended up at the edge of the river Seine. 

Still with his camera out, Harry caught the arrival of the boat to the dock, and the mass of passengers emerging. Purchasing their return tickets, they stepped onto the boat and found a seat on the deck where they could watch and hear everything that happened. Harry couldn’t stop imagining how much of a date this felt like, and he wondered if Louis felt the same. It seemed so cute to go shopping together, and a romantic cruise along the Seine certainly didn’t help his fantasies. It was made worse by the fact that they were literally in “the city of love”, and Harry’s hand twitched with the desire to take Louis’ own and hold on tight. He suppressed both a sigh and that urge, and turned away to will his longing to be less obvious. Once the boat started moving, they made polite conversation, chatting about Uni, life and travel. 

“I’m studying drama,” Louis began with. 

“Yeah?” Harry replied, studying Louis, “I can see that.”

Louis sighed. “That’s the thing though. I’m not sure I want to keep studying it.” Harry made an inquiring noise. He sighed again. “I used to love acting. But I’m not sure of – well it’s a couple of things actually. Firstly, you know, whether I can actually make a career out of it,” he said self-deprecatingly. Harry hummed his discontent, reassuring Louis he knew he could make it happen. “The other though, is more important. I don’t think I love drama like I used to. I just – I don’t feel as passionate and alive when I’m on stage. I’m halfway through my degree and I want to give up. Does that make me a failure?” He looked at Harry imploringly, eyes glossy.

Harry rushed to reassure him, and was surprised to realise how much he meant those words. Despite only knowing him for less than 12 hours, Harry knew Louis was no such thing as a failure, and he told him so. Louis thanked him quietly and looked away. Harry kept quiet, offering Louis the pseudo-privacy he craved. Before Harry could say any more, the boat began to slow, rolling with the slight waves towards the dock. Harry stood up and held his arm out to Louis. When Louis took the offered hand, Harry yanked hard, pulling Louis into his chest. There he held him tightly, trying to convey as much support and reassurance as he could. The small smile Louis had on his face when they let each other go convinced Harry he understood. 

As they stepped off the boat and onto the swaying deck, they stood closer than before. The air felt different around them too, the solemnity of their boat conversation breaking down some more boundaries. From their shoulders down to their fingers brushed as Louis led the way to the Louvre Museum. Harry had turned the camera off once they’d begun talking over the water but held it back up now, careful to keep their brushing limbs out of the shot. The light reflected off the glass pyramids like glitter, and one moment Harry was filming his awestruck expression, the next he was striding up to the smaller pyramid and peering down. As Harry admired the vast monuments, he couldn’t help but think the pyramids were actually really ugly. He said as much to Louis, who had wandered up behind Harry while he was studying them, and he just laughed and said the French will love him. At his words, Harry could feel his cheeks heating up and a fluttering began in his stomach. He internally groaned. It wasn’t enough that Harry’s brain found Louis aesthetically appeasing, no he had to go and genuinely like Louis and develop a crush on him. What a long three weeks it was going to be. 

They eventually made it inside the museum. Louis had insisted on taking the touristy photos pinching the pyramids, despite Harry’s insistent head shaking. But Harry was quickly understanding he couldn’t say no to Louis, and so Harry now had at least a hundred pictures of both of them pinching the ugly pyramids, and one of Louis squatting over the bigger one, which he couldn’t help but giggle at whenever he scrolled past it. When they got through the doors, Louis looked at his watch. 

“Harry, I’m really sorry but we only have an hour here if we want to get everything else done today.” He did look genuinely apologetic, as though he knew Harry could spend days in this epic masterpiece of a building (and realistically, what could Harry possibly see in an hour when it was the most popular tourist attraction in Paris and the largest museum in the world?) and that an hour was most definitely not going to be enough. 

But Harry just smiled and replied with a, “thank you,” because he knew Louis didn’t have to be here, but he was. The first place Harry dragged Louis to was of course the gallery with the ‘Mona Lisa’. There was a crowd around the admittedly small work, and Harry expected to be waiting a while. He was jostled forward with everyone else, almost losing Louis if it wasn’t for the tight grip they had on each other’s hands. Harry was pleasantly surprised when it only took a few minutes to get to the front. Out of the corner of his eye he could see an obnoxious girl with her phone up, taking a million selfies without even changing the angle. He shook his to focus back on the hugely famous painting. It was underwhelming. He was absolutely excited to be here, don’t get him wrong. But… the artwork itself was really quite small and nothing like how everyone had hyped it up to be. Plus, he couldn’t really see the detail in the work because of the huge glass security case and how far back he had to stand, even at the front of the group. He thought maybe he was more excited to be able to say “I’ve seen the ‘Mona Lisa’ in person”, and to be honest he was okay with that. He turned his head to Louis and whispered into his ear,

“It’s not that great, don’t you think?” Louis giggled in response, and laughed even more at the dirty looks being shot Harry’s way. Maybe he needed to work on his whisper. Nonetheless, he led Louis from the room and into an emptier corridor. The map rustled and crinkled as it was pulled out of Harry’s shorts, and he smoothed it over with his palm before moving his finger over the names of the art. He stopped at the ‘Venus de Milo’, which was just around the corner, and raised an eyebrow at Louis in question. He nodded in return and they set off for the statue. Again, there was a crowd in front on the statue, but they both waited patiently, unaware that they had clasped hands at some point. It was only when one of them, Harry couldn’t recall who, began swinging their joined hands between them that they realised, and let go with a blush. At the foot of the statue, they murmured their appreciation into each other’s ears, before again moving along. Half an hour had already passed, upsettingly, and Harry had so much more to see. 

He began to nudge Louis in the direction of the stairs, keen to at least see the ‘Grande Odalisque’ before they had to go. They raced up the stairs, Harry panting and out of breath, bent over his knees when they reached the top. He went to reach for his botte of water before he remembered they had to leave their bags at the front desk. Harry grimaced, now regretting the decision to race. But he stood up again and dutifully followed Louis out of the crowd and pulled out the map again. As one of the first female nudes, the painting was an important one in Harry’s mind. His Art History Professor had raved on about it for so long that Harry was now desperate to see it. When they finally got there, the room was blessedly empty and Harry suddenly stopped. It was incredible. It was better than the ‘Mona Lisa’, because Harry could actually see it. He admired the brush strokes, the colour and the position of the body before turning to Louis. There was an incredibly fond look on his face to match the blinding grin on Harry’s, and Louis leant forward to brush a stubborn curl off Harry’s face before moving back to the portrait. Harry wasn’t sure exactly how much time they spent there, but when they had their fill it was about time to leave. Harry sighed, a frown tugging at his lips. Louis smiled a little sadly and wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulders, leaving Harry to rest his head on Louis as they casually strolled down the corridors that led to the exit. Harry brought out his camera, taking one more picture of them both with the huge museum behind them, bags at their feet and then filmed himself walking away towards the bank of the river. 

The sun was setting in soft pinks, oranges and blues as they reached the bridge. Harry gasped when he saw it, the locks glittering in the fading light. He looked to Louis, who had a satisfied smile on his face.

“Do you like it?” He asked softly.

Harry nodded erratically. “I had forgotten all about it,” he replied, equally as quiet. Pont des Arts stood before them in its love-filled and romantic glory. Harry couldn’t believe he’d actually forgotten about the bridge of locks, something he’d dreamt about since he was a child and first learnt what love was. Harry slowly walked on to the bridge and his head whipped from side to side, trying to see as much as possible before he reached the end. Louis trailed behind with Harry’s camera he sneakily stole, recording Harry’s elation at his surprise. The locks had begun the process of being changed, panels being removed and resting on the wood beneath Harry’s feet. He skirted around them, pausing to squat and look. These panels had been bracketed either side by glass sheets, protecting the state of the locks. He looked up and noticed a tour guide a few feet down the bridge, presenting to a small crowd in heavily accented English. He stood up and gestured to the guide, prompting a nod and smile from Louis. 

They wandered over in time to hear, “The panels are switched for new ones every six months, because the weight of each panel gets too much for the bridge too handle. It’s very dangerous, and there’s been a few incidents were panels have fallen off into the river below.” Louis whistled quietly, Harry nodding grimly in turn. “In addition, a movement has begun to replace the wooden panels with glass or plastic, so locks can’t be fastened to the bridge, making it a safer space.” Harry and Louis wandered further down after that, Harry thinking about the slow deterioration of one of the most magical places in the world (in his humble opinion).

“It’s sad, don’t you think?” Louis hummed in acknowledgement, trailing his fingers over the locks as they passed. “The bridge, I mean. That it won’t be there anymore? It’s one of the most romantic places in the world, and certainly in France. It’s iconic. And to think that soon it won’t be there anymore? It’s a bit sad. Like what if, in a few years, I wanted to come back with my boyfriend and put a lovelock on the bridge? I can’t can I? Think of the future generations!” Harry was impassioned now, imploring Louis to think about the severity of this issue. Louis couldn’t help but giggle, especially at how cute Harry looked when he was worked up – a furrow between his brows and his nose scrunched up, hands waving wildly through the air. Louis was beginning to realise that Harry Styles was special, and he could admit to himself that he was developing a bit of a crush. Harry was just so earnest and wonderful, and really, it was inevitable. It’s one of the reasons Louis asked to join Harry on his adventure – he seemed like a fun person, going on a fun adventure, and Louis was helpless but to become attached. 

Harry’s shoulders suddenly pulled back, affronted by Louis’ laugh. He rushed to reassure Harry, hands in the space between their bodies in a placating gesture.

“No, no, I didn’t mean to laugh at you. It’s just, you’re a hopeless romantic, aren’t you?” Louis grinned at him, and the tension between them dissipated with the relaxation of Harry’s body. “It’s cute.” Louis didn’t stick around to see the blush bloom on Harry’s cheeks, his shy smile or the way he gently brushed his curls behind his ear, continuing the journey down the bridge until he reached the end and turned, waiting for Harry to catch up. Harry giggled a little to himself in a burst of happiness before jogging to catch up with Louis. When they started walking again Harry had the urge to grab Louis’ hand and make him skip to the water boat station, laughing and just having fun. He wanted that with Louis. Instead he skipped by himself, shouting “race you!” over his shoulder.

They reached the dock out of breath, panting but laughing. The next ferry wasn’t for ten minutes, so they sat down on the dock and dangled their legs over the edge, swinging their feet with the swell of the gentle waves on the river. Harry pulled out his camera and filmed their loose legs, turning the camera around to face himself and Louis, waving and smiling into the lens. He turned it off again as the boat approached. This time they followed the crowd into the boat’s cabin and took a seat on the hard wooden chairs. Harry stared out the window at the passing buildings, excited for whatever Louis had planned for the evening.

When they step off the boat, Louis inclines his head towards the Tower. Harry’s face split into a giddy smile, a loud laugh erupting from his throat. The Eiffel Tower had been high on Harry’s ‘to see’ list for as long as he could remember, and he couldn’t believe he was finally getting to see it in person and during the sunset. As they walked to the Tower, Harry’s jaw dropped in awe. It was so huge, and intimidating, and gorgeous. The scaffolding aesthetic it had going on, Harry wasn’t sure about. But the fact that he was actually here, about to climb it, was just incredible. He turned his excited face to Louis, who mirrored his elation, pure happiness clear in his eyes. He pulled Louis to a stop and grabbed his camera, needing to capture this moment. A significant amount of pictures later, the camera was away and they restarted their walk to the foot of the monument.

“Lifts or stairs?” Harry pondered the question, definitely giving it the thought it truly deserved.

“How about lifts up, stairs down?” Louis nodded in acceptance and dragged Harry by the forearm to the end of the line. After what felt like forever, they were ushered into the first of the elevators. Louis huddled in close to Harry as the elevator shuddered to a start, groaning its way up the Tower. Harry wrapped an arm around Louis’ shoulders and hugged him to his side as he stared at the passing structure, unable to tear his eyes away. By the time they boarded the second elevator and reached the top level, the sun had finally set and night had fallen. The sight of Paris lit up at night took Harry’s breath away. He grabbed Louis’ hand, uncaring of the possible repercussions, and stumbled to the edge of the platform with Louis following behind. His free hand grasped the wire fencing surrounding them, feet rooted to the ground and just looked. Light touches could be felt on his hand, Louis’ thumb running softly back and forth. He sighed happily, the shrug of his shoulders jolting Louis out of the Harry-trance he’d fallen into. They walked around the platform hand-in-hand, pointing out the brightest buildings to each other. When it started to get a bit chilly they ventured into the gift shop. Many figurines and key rings later, they headed back outside for one more look before they began the long trek down the stairs. The area they stopped at faced the Louvre and Pont des Arts. Harry noticed a lock clasped to the mesh fencing and smoothed the pads of his fingers over the engraving. As he took more notice, he saw more and more lining the fence of the Eiffel Tower. Louis saw what preoccupied him and nudged Harry’s shoulder with his own.

“Maybe this will be the new bridge,” he said with a small smile. Harry dimpled back, but a frown crossed his face.

“This is a bit more dangerous though,” he thought out loud. “When the fence gets too heavy, will it fall off? That’s a hazard, to both the people on the ground and those on the Tower.” Louis nodded thoughtfully.

“That’s true. Maybe you could find your own spot then, whenever you come back.”

“I think I’d like that.” They paused and stared at each other. Harry wasn’t sure who made the first movement, but next thing he knew they were bypassing the other tourists and beginning their descent. Harry was often distracted by Louis’ face – his eyes, lips and nose. If he was spacing out where Louis could see, it was becoming a hazard. So Harry made a conscious effort to focus on his surroundings and only vaguely on Louis. He didn’t want to miss the view, after all. And if he kept his movement minimal in the hopes Louis wouldn’t notice their hands that swung gently between them that was his business.

After a long journey down they made it to the ground. Harry’s legs felt like jelly, and he couldn’t help but to lean on Louis for a little support. He led the two of them over to a bench and they sat for a while. Harry was the first to break the silence.

“I know we were going to go out for dinner, but I’m exhausted.” He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, hoping that Louis wasn’t too disappointed. “Can we maybe just pick up something quick and take it back to the hostel please?” He scuffed the toe of his shoe along the ground with his question, desperately hoping for a ‘yes’. He wanted to eat, sleep, and be ready for tomorrow’s adventure.

“Of course we can,” Louis reassured, rubbing his hand up and down Harry’s arm, like how he was doing to Harry’s hand earlier. Their decreasing boundaries had apparently also meant they were increasingly tactile, not that either one was complaining. With one last caress of Harry’s arm, Louis led them in the direction of their hostel, content to pick up something on the way. By the time they’d made it to the entrance of the hostel they’d picked up bread, cheese and fruit from a boulangerie, fromagerie and supermarché respectively. They brought their meal up to their room and ate quickly and with gusto, moaning over the delicacy of the French food, despite it being common products. After a surprisingly hearty meal, they rushed through their evening routines, eager to sleep in order to wake up earlier and continue on their journey.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” Louis asked as he packed away the day’s clothes.

“Checkout is from 6, so I was thinking 6:30 at the latest?” Harry replied.

“God,” Louis groaned from where he face planted into the bed, “you’re trying to kill me.” Harry giggled in response and pulled the covers tighter around him.

“It’ll be good for you, Lou,” Harry thanked God it was dark in the room and Louis couldn’t see the blush forming on his face from using a nickname. “Just think about the magic of the sunrise. Plus, I promise we’ll get a caffeine fix before we set off for good. And we’ll stop for lunch throughout the day. It’ll be really good, I promise.” Harry had the sudden (worst case scenario) thought of Louis not wanting to tag along anymore, deterred by the long hours and longer travel time. He was about to speak up, give Louis the out he desperately hoped he didn’t want, when Louis beat him to it.

“I have no doubt about that, Curly,” Louis murmured as he drifted off to sleep. For Harry, it took longer, kept awake by more red cheeks, this time courtesy of the nickname Louis gave him. It felt like progress.

~

It was early the next morning when Harry awoke with a groan. He rolled over onto his stomach and shoved his face into the pillow, attempting to savour the last few seconds of sleep before the day set in. The flimsy curtains blew gently with the breeze that filtered into the room, causing goosebumps on Harry’s bare skin. He shivered lightly, pulling the duvet over his head for a second before throwing it off and leaping out of bed. He grabbed a towel and hotfooted it to the bathroom, desperate to get out of the cold. He glanced back as he heard Louis stir behind him, throwing him a smile before he kept jogging.

When he returned, there was a cup of coffee waiting for him on the bedside table beside a ham and cheese croissant. Stuck beneath the coffee was a note saying Louis had also gone to use the shower and would be back soon. Light began to stream through the window as Harry began to pack up his belongings, shouldering his pack and sitting back down on the stripped mattress, sipping up the dregs of his coffee. Louis returned moments later, his bag already packed and sitting by his bed. Harry looked up to say good morning just as Louis dropped his towel, reaching for the clothes lain out on his mattress. An involuntary squeak escaped Harry’s throat as he tore his gaze away, cursing his reddening cheeks. A side-glance over told him Louis’ cheeks were the same, and the tight coil in his tummy loosened slightly. When they were both ready, they wandered down to the front desk to check out. As the concierge turned away to process their request, Harry removed his share of the room’s payment from his pocket and pushed it into Louis’. Louis startled at the contact, focused on the concierge, but before he could say anything the man pushed sheets of paperwork over to him. Once check out was complete, the exited the hostel and turned left. He pulled out his map as Louis rummaged in his pocket. Harry had just figured out the best route to take to get them to Orleans, via Etampes, when Louis emerged triumphant and mad.

“What’s this?” He questioned, brandishing the euros in Harry’s face.

“My share of the room,” Harry replied calmly. He wasn’t taking the money back.

“I already told you that isn’t necessary,” Louis complained, trying to get Harry’s hand to close around the notes.

“And I told you I wasn’t comfortable not paying,” Harry shrugged, moving along the footpath in the vague direction of Étampes. Louis huffed but acquiesced, jogging to catch up. He muttered under his breath, something about doing something nice for Harry. He tried not to blush.

Getting out of the city proved more difficult than they thought. With winding roads and tall buildings it was hard to orient themselves. That workshop Harry did in orienteering really wasn’t helping right now. Eventually they just pulled the map out with the route marked on it and held it as they walked, too annoyed to care about how daggy they looked.

Along the route they tried a multitude of games to keep them occupied. Harry dominated at ‘I Spy’ but Louis was the clear winner of ‘Celebrity Heads’. They finally lapsed into silence after who knew how long, too exhausted to try and keep up conversation, the only sounds they could hear the slap of their shoes on the ground and their panting breaths. Cars whizzed passed them on the main roads, and Harry really wanted to give in and stick his thumb out; hitch hike his way to Étampes. But he also wanted to do this right, and so banished the thoughts with a shake of his head.

His camera stayed in his right hand, dangling by the wrist strap. Every now and then he’d turn it on, sweep the landscape, film his feet, film his face and Louis’ face, and turn it off. If there happened to be something that caught his eye while walking he’d film that instead. Two full 16GB memory cards sat in his right pants’ pocket, with eight in his left and ten in his pack. He wasn’t worried about filming too much; he planned to speed up all the walking anyway. They filled the silence with inane chatter, learning new things about each other’s families, childhood, and anything else they could think of. Harry subconsciously swayed closer and closer to Louis’s body until their hands brushed with every step. Their cheeks were tinged with pink, though whether it was the situation or the harsh wind, Harry wasn’t sure. He wanted to take the leap and grab Louis’ hand, sure he wouldn’t mind – he’d probably encourage it! But he couldn’t do it; he didn’t have enough courage for that. Where was Dorothy when you needed her? Harry thought he’d look wonderful in a lion’s suit.

After what felt like forever, the two boys finally passed a sign that read Bienvenue á Étampes. They cheered loudly, hugging fiercely and jumping up and down. The two of them were so ready for a nap and some food other than muesli bars. The town wasn’t large, more of a village than anything, but they managed to stumble across a Bed & Breakfast with an empty room. The only problem was, there was only one double bed. It was the only room available, too. Internally, Harry was cheering, but he didn’t want to appear too elated in case Louis felt the exact opposite. But when Louis took the room key from the nice old lady with a smile, a feeling flared in the pit of Harry’s stomach, something he recognised as hope.

They trudged up the stairs of the inn and into their room. They didn’t say anything to each other before they collapsed on the bed. When they woke, it was to delicious smells wafting up from the kitchen below. Harry moved first, straightening his legs under the sheets and curling his toes. He managed not to attach himself to Louis over night, which he was thankful for, because he didn’t think that would have concealed his feelings very well. Despite this, he felt rooted to his spot in the bed as he watched Louis snuffle in his sleep. He twitched and rolled over, his back now facing Harry. Faced with the large expanse of soft golden skin, he had the temptation to brush his fingers over Louis’ bare back and feel the perfection for himself. A muffled groan from beside him startled him out of his trance, and he hurried out of the bed and to the bathroom, eager to disappear before Louis turned over and realised Harry’s creepily hard.

After a surreptitious wank over the toilet with his moans muffled into his arm, he re-emerges feeling dirty and with a bite mark on his bicep. Louis has apparently gotten up and dressed, as both their bags are packed, with an outfit laid on the bed for Harry and a note resting on top saying Louis had gone down to breakfast. Harry rushed through getting ready, packing his toothbrush away before grabbing both bags, sweeping the room once more and heading down to breakfast. He found Louis at a table by the window and greeted him with a sweet smile in advance of dropping their bags from his shoulders and fetching breakfast. The rumble of his stomach was audible as he sat back down and Louis laughed at him, the first Harry’d heard of it today. It made him smile. After they wolfed down their breakfast they checked out of the B&B and were back on their way. 

The walk to Orleans was much the same as to Etampes but quieter, as they had begun to run out of conversation topics. Harry could probably list every detail about Louis’ life up to this point; they’d already had so much time to chat. From Louis’ own birthday to his hometown, every member of his immediate family and their birthdays, along with his hopes and dreams starting from the time he could speak – yeah, Harry knew a lot. But this meant that there wasn’t really much left to talk about apart from the weather, and that would not last them 12 hours. So they walked in silence. By hour six the exhaustion had begun to set in and Louis’ voted for a break. With a soft “hear, hear,” echoed by Harry, he lowered the camera and collapsed on the ground with a whine. He could hear Louis chuckle softly above him, his angelic voice carried on the breeze to surround Harry with its cadence. The sun that had been streaming down onto his face suddenly disappeared, replaced with a shadow. Harry felt something nudge at his lips, feeling very confused until a slow trickle of cool relief landed against his lips. He opened them for the water, grateful that Louis would pour it for him like this, and it made him smile so much the water began to dribble from the corner of his mouth. Louis’ nose scrunched in laughter, the crinkles by his eyes becoming more pronounced. Harry laughed in response, trying to swallow at the same time. Louis shook his head in amusement, Harry hoped, and took a swig from the bottle. After a few more minutes’ rest they stood up again with a sigh and continued on their path.

~

The first incident they had was that night in the hostel in Orleans. Harry ran into Louis as he was exiting the bathroom, not realising Louis was in the middle of changing. He was without a shirt, and his pants were around his ankles in the process of being kicked off. Harry squeaked but couldn’t move to cover his eyes or even avert his gaze. He was stuck, staring at the reveal of tanned skin; his golden abs and smooth pecs, the dusting of hair on his chest over his tattoo and his thick thighs were caught in Harry’s gaze. He could feel his cheeks blushing wildly but was too embarrassed to attempt to catch a look at Louis’ face. It was then that he realised Louis wasn’t moving either, but Harry was unsure as to whether it was because he was too embarrassed and flustered to move as well or he was uncomfortable with Harry’s staring. Harry really hoped it wasn’t the latter. After what felt like a significantly creepy amount of time, Louis’ hand twitched. This was what snapped Harry out of it and he stumbled back, horrified.

“Oh my God, Louis, I’m so sorry! I didn’t meant to walk in and then I just stood there. I didn’t even look away oh no you must hate me I’m sorry I was just surprised I promise I’m not creepy. Shit,” Harry buried his face in his hands so his words were muffled, his hair sticking up in all directions after he ran his hands through it repeatedly in his stress. Louis stepped towards him, hands outstretched as though to soothe him.

“It’s alright, really Harry. I promise it’s okay and I don’t think you’re creepy. I actually think you’re quite lovely,” he smiled at Harry. By this point he was close enough to touch and nudged Harry under the chin in soft jest. Harry released a huge breath and smiled shyly back. They stared into each other’s eyes, unblinking. After a few more moments, Harry cleared his throat and Louis stepped back.

“I’m just going to –“ he gestured behind him.

“Yep,” Harry shortly replied, also turning away to get into bed. The next morning things were a bit awkward but after a few furtive glances from both parties when they thought the other wasn’t looking, they had a good laugh about someone they saw along the road and the tension was diffused.

~

Their second near miss was on the way to Le Blanc after Orleans, after their overnight stay in Saint-Aignan. Despite being a main street, the road to Le Blanc, just prior to the National Park, was really kind of shitty. It was littered with potholes, and every time a car drove over one, Harry winced in sympathy. He was meandering along in front of Louis for a change, because the area for pedestrians beside the road was fairly narrow, and then gradually dropped off down an incline, so they couldn’t walk together. Harry still felt a bit weird around Louis after he basically ogled him for half an hour (maybe a slight exaggeration), and to walk behind him Harry felt was a bit dangerous, given his current predicament of ‘on-the-road-to-falling-madly-in-love-with-Louis-Tomlinson’. And to distract himself further, he started watching the cars driving past, seeing if he could name all the companies based on their logo. So far so good, there was one he couldn’t quite remember, and he was trying so hard to think of it that he just completely missed the pothole on the side of the road.

He remembered thinking as soon as he stumbled into the small pit, this is it, I’m going down, before pitching forward. He tried to turn as he fell to land on his pack rather than his face, but he had completely forgotten about Louis following on behind him (Finally, something distracts him and it’s only bloody injuring himself). So he was completely unprepared for Louis to land right on top of his chest, knocking the wind out of him. As he struggled to regain his breath he suddenly realised his new issue. Louis was on top of him. Literally. Their faces were so close and Louis’ fringe was tickling Harry’s nose. This was a problem. Louis was breathing heavily on top of him, from the shock and the impact, face in Harry’s chest, and it wasn’t like Harry could just ask him to get off. So he lay there and waited. When Louis finally looked up, the intense and clear shade of blue in his eyes took Harry’s breath away. Even hot and sweaty and exhausted, he was still so beautiful. And that was when Harry realised he was fucked. He was going to fall in love with Louis before the end of the trip and there was nothing he could do about it. With that in mind, he thought he’d enjoy the current situation as long as he could, and Louis didn’t seem intent on moving anytime soon.

His eyelashes fluttered as his gaze dropped to Louis’ mouth, pink and wet, for just a moment, but it was enough for Louis to catch. Louis’ breath hitched, and Harry could feel his straining as he leaned in, Louis’ lips coming closer and closer. Finally, was all he could think – a car horn blasted through the air, startling them both into flying away from each other. Harry stayed where he was, but Louis had leapt off Harry and fell again onto his bum, eyes wide and shocked. The suddenness of the horn had Harry struggling for breath, his second fright in five minutes taking its toll. He couldn’t help but feel the disappointment seep through his bones as he stared at Louis from the ground. Now that he had accepted his inevitable fall, it seemed easy to hope that maybe next time.

~

The third time it happened was during their stay in Le Vigeant, their first stop on their way to Bordeaux. It was maybe, sort of, entirely Harry’s fault. Since his little revelation, he had gotten bolder around Louis. Casual touches, lingering glances, possibly even some suggestive poses. 

It was during one of these moments where Harry felt brave that something changed. They had just arrived in the small town, and were searching for a place to stay. There didn’t appear to be any hostels or rooms for rent around, and it was looking like they’d have to camp. They’d done it before – just the other night in Le Blanc in fact, but Harry had been really looking forward to a shower and a flushing toilet. With a sigh they resigned themselves to another in the tent, and instead began wandering the forest for a suitable campground. It was with the reminder of last night buzzing in his head that Harry asked Louis to “sit this one out,” with a smirk. He was referring to their attempt to construct the tent in the national park the night before, where Louis mixed up the pegs, and then didn’t hammer them into the ground enough so the tent collapsed on them in the middle of the night. Harry woke up screaming bloody murder, convinced he was being kidnapped. Louis had a right laugh about it for ages, and they got a noise complaint from the residents of Le Blanc for their effort. Louis was very proud.

He was also happy to sit out, not keen on having another fitful night’s sleep. He sat on a log by their rock circle-come-fire pit and watched Harry do all the work. And Harry maybe put in a bit more effort than last night, swinging his hips as he walked, and bending at the waist rather than his knees to accentuate his bum. He was sure it was working, too; Louis hadn’t taken his eyes off him since he began, nevermind that Harry was the only entertainment in the forest. Louis watched him almost poke his eye out with one of the poles and listened with a fond smile as he hummed ‘Let It Go’ to himself while fixing the last of the tent pegs in place.

He cracked when Harry bent down and crawled into the tent with their packs. By this time, Harry had (shockingly, in hindsight) forgotten all about his plan to seduce Louis, and so wiggled his bum without a care as he set out their sleeping bags. The heavy air alerted Harry to a presence behind him, and he swept his hair out of his face as he turned his head over his left shoulder. Louis stood behind him, almost on top of him, his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared down at Harry. He smiled back at Louis coyly, fluttering his eyelashes. A low sound ripped from Louis’ throat and he looked shocked at himself. Harry giggled and slowly stood up, turning completely to face Louis. He stepped closer, running the palms of his hands over Louis chest. In return, Louis moved his arms to encircle Harry’s waist, nudging himself closer until their feet bracketed each other. Harry took slow breaths, taking in the scent of Louis and the woods, revelling in the strong smell. He wasn’t sure who started it, but within a moment they were leaning in, their breath intermingling and noses brushing. Harry was caught up in the thought of yes, it’s finally happening, fisting his hand in Louis’ shirt. Harry’s breath hitched as Louis’ eyelashes quivered, lids closing. He was just about to follow when movement caught his attention in his peripherals.

A scream echoed through their glade, his eyes wide in fear. He jumped back from Louis into the tent, falling on top of it and bringing it down with him. Louis looked down at him, confusion and above all, hurt clear in his eyes. Harry pointed with a trembling hand to Louis’ shoulder where a big hairy spider was crawling down his arm. Louis shouted in shock, hands flying to his neckline where he whipped of the shirt, spider flying to the ground beside Harry, who scrambled to his feet and backed away. The spider sat for a moment before scuttling off in the opposite direction, to Harry’s great relief. Louis had put his shirt back on, but was twitching as if he could still feel the spider on him. Harry shuddered in sympathy.

They fixed the tent in silence, Louis helping this time as the sun began to set. A quick spray of insect repellent and a short meal later, they were in bed, still not having said a word. They fell asleep in the silence, and Harry couldn’t help but think their epic, romantic love story was inevitable. If fate wanted to keep intervening, Harry could wait. He knew it would happen eventually. 

~

After that, through an unspoken agreement, they maintained their distance. Well, as much as possible. Which, really, wasn’t all that much. It seemed that whenever they tried to take their relationship to the next level something always went wrong. Harry was sure it was fate, but Louis was just annoyed he hadn’t kissed Harry yet, and it showed in their interactions. Throughout their time in Champniers and Chevenceaux, they didn't touch once. Not while walking – their fingers didn't brush; not while passing the salt at dinner – their hands didn't entwine; and not during the night – their sleeping bags didn't so much as move an in inch from where they’d laid them. And it was killing Harry. He didn't realise how many small touches made up his day, little brushes against Louis arm or his waist; and now that they were gone, now that he and Louis were in whatever weird limbo post-Le Blanc, he felt lost and kind of empty. When they grabbed breakfast the morning they were leaving Chevenceaux for Bordeaux, it was tense, and the prospect of walking for another twelve hours with this hanging over their heads was doing his head in. He didn't think he could handle the confrontation though, and he knew he'd be staying silent. So when he got to breakfast and Louis was already at a table, he honestly paused and wondered whether he should sit at that table or find another one. Because while both of them were contributing to this tension, it was undeniably Louis who was communicating the hostility. Right after the incident Harry had tried to laugh it off, but obviously that was the wrong move, as Louis had shut down. His eyes narrowed and jaw clenched, and he'd been closed off since. 

But when Louis looked up and saw Harry hesitating by the breakfast hall's entrance, he glanced back down at his food, and he looked sad. Sad that Harry felt a degree of hesitation. He raised his eyes again, locking with Harry's, and sent a small hopeful smile Harry's way. Harry released a huge breath, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a small smile. He couldn't hold Louis' gaze, eyes dropping to the floor as he walked over to the table. He dropped his bag beside Louis and left again to collect his food. Coming back with a plate of fruit and carbs and a steaming mug of tea, he sat opposite Louis and waited. Louis didn't notice for a few moments, continuing to eat his cereal, but when he did it was with a spoonful poised in front of his open mouth. The milk dripped off the spoon as Louis stared back, slowly closing his mouth and lowering the spoon back into the bowl, clearing his throat. 

"I want to apologise," Louis began solemnly. Harry didn't even try to interrupt; he knew he couldn't stop Louis and quite frankly, he wanted the apology. "I - well I overreacted after the, um, spider incident," he still shuddered as he recalled it, "and I was rude to you and cold, without any explanation and that was cruel and wrong. I'm so sorry." He looked straight into Harry's eyes as he said it, with mouth etched in a frown. Harry didn't doubt his sincerity, and told him so. A look of relief passed over Louis' face; his features relaxing and his shoulders slumping back into his chair at Harry's words. 

After that, breakfast was a lovely affair with bright conversation, and so it was proved that they really couldn’t stay away from each other. They caught the other up on their experiences of the past few days – the flowers they saw, the animals they screamed at and the people they laughed at. It was exactly like before all three incidents, with light-hearted banter and giggles all around. But something was still different to Harry. There was something in Louis' eyes, in the way his laughs were louder and his eyes sparkled just a little brighter. Hope bloomed in Harry’s chest; hope that he’d get another chance with Louis. 

When they finally reached Bordeaux they were worn down to the bone. There was some left over money the two of them had accumulated over the trip, either from roughing it while camping, or buying super cheap food. Harry was ready for a comfy bed, a hot shower and a proper meal, so he proposed they splurge on a hotel. Louis was more than happy to accommodate, so within five minutes they had booked a room for the night in the nicest cheap hotel they could find, and had collapsed on their beds with happy sighs. After quick showers, Louis requested a short nap before dinner. Of course Harry agreed, and they said laughing ‘good night’s to each other and set their alarms for an hour.

When they woke, it was to a feeling of refreshment and rejuvenation. They smiled to each other from their adjacent beds, sharing the happy feeling they were experiencing. Unbeknownst to each other, both Louis and Harry’s breath got caught in their throats when faced with the other’s smile. It was an echo of positivity to Harry’s dejected state, confirmation that Louis felt the same way, that something could happen and they could live happily ever after (or so Harry wished). 

There was a pamphlet in the bedside table of Louis’ bed that housed the names of the restaurants in the area. On the back page, gaudy colours advertised a discount in the restaurant attached to the hotel. Louis pointed to that one and Harry nodded his head in agreement, his curls flapping over his face with the movement. Harry murmured something about dressing up for dinner, and both boys rummaged through their packs to find something marginally acceptable. Harry had more luck, with a nice pair of pants shoved to the bottom, along with a button-up shirt and a coat. Unfortunately, he’d be stuck with his dirty walking shoes. Harry was just thankful he had passed on the hiking boots. Louis, on the other hand, had spread the entire contents of his bag over his bed in an effort to find something nice. All he could come up with was a pair of skinny jeans and a clean red t-shirt, with his own dirty shoes. Harry looked down at the coat in his hands and held it out to Louis. It was a bit big on him and he had to roll the sleeves up, but it made his outfit look worlds better. Harry couldn’t help but to look once Louis started on his hair, and just take him in. He looked fantastic – the jeans clung nicely, the colour of the shirt brought out his eyes and Harry’s coat on him, he just couldn’t handle it. Seeing Louis in his clothes was doing things to Harry, and he bit his lip to try and stave off the feeling.

Once they were ready they walked side by side down to the restaurant, and Harry was again struck with how much of a date this seemed, just like back in Paris. Not that he minded, of course he didn’t – he wanted to date the shit out of Louis, but he wanted Louis to also want to date him. Preferably forever. Could you fall in love in a week? Probably not, Harry thought, not that he cared. If he wasn’t in love with Louis (yet), he was at least in (serious) like.

They were seated at a booth by a window, their reflections smiling back at them as they gazed out into the Bordeaux night scene. Harry opened the menu, and was shocked to find it in French. He had legitimately forgotten the first language of the country he was staying in, mostly because Louis had been the one to book all their hostels and rooms. Harry never had to exercise his stage three French knowledge in years and all he could remember how to say (other than the bare basics) was something about going to the cinema with his family. He couldn’t read this menu.

“Louis,” Harry stage whispered. He looked up from where he was studying the menu. “I can’t read it,” he continued, gesturing to the booklet where it sat on his lap. Louis huffed a laugh and shuffled around so he was next to Harry.

“Pizza, pasta or meat.” Harry weighed his choices. Pasta would probably be too messy (especially on a date, his subconscious reminded him), and he wasn’t feeling like a lot of meat, so pizza it was. “Good choice,” Louis commented. He read to him the selections available, all gourmet of course. Once Harry picked one, Louis taught him how to say it in French so he could order. Harry’s first attempts were horrendous, and Louis had to cover his mouth so he wouldn’t disturb the other patrons with his laugh.

When the waiter came around, Louis took the initiative, flawlessly ordering a Neapolitan pizza and a glass of red wine. The waiter turned to Harry, who looked back down at his menu and back to the waiter helplessly. Fortunately, the waiter looked endeared rather than irritated, and came to Harry’s rescue.

“Just point, oui?” He said with a smile and a heavy accent.

“I’ll just have what he’s having, merci,” Harry replied in a small voice.

“Of course, monsieur. It won’t be too long.” He directed that last sentence to both Harry and Louis, looking to each of them with another smile before leaving with a flourish back to the kitchen.

After he disappeared, silence took hold, and it lingered in the air so long it became awkward. Eventually, Harry was desperate to have their easy conversation back that he blurted out the first thought in his head, which happened to be one that he thought he definitely should have kept up there.

“Is this a date?” As soon as the words were out he clapped a hand over his mouth, horrified he had accidentally said that. Quick as lightning Louis looked up, eyes wide. They stayed like that, motionless, for a few moments before slowly Louis looked back to his lap, fingering the fancy napkin the waiter had laid there.

“Do you…” he paused, considering his words, “want it to be?” As he asked, Louis looked back into Harry’s eyes, and he was helpless but to tell Louis the truth.

“Very much a lot,” he nodded emphatically before his brain caught up with his mouth. His nose scrunched at his sentence structure and Louis giggled delicately, lips hidden behind his hand. But it couldn’t contain his smile, which erupted across his face. He gently reached across the table and took Harry’s hand in his, soothing its nervous twitching with caresses.

“I would too,” Louis softly replied, looking up at Harry from under his eyelashes and biting his lip. Harry whimpered. He really wanted to kiss Louis – just lean across the table, romantic centrepiece be damned, and snog the living daylights out of him. He always wanted to kiss Louis, but the urge was stronger now than it had been since the Le Blanc incident. Louis must’ve been able to see the dilemma in Harry’s eyes as he rubbed his hand between his smaller two, mouthing “after dinner” to Harry, his cheeks blushing red with the words. Harry beamed back and subconsciously licked his lips, already on edge.

Dinner was beautiful; there was no denying that. But it was hard for Harry to concentrate when he knew what was coming post-dessert. He enjoyed his pizza, and he savoured his wine, and when the waiter came back asking if they wanted dessert he was excited for the crème brûlée they were going to share. But he was relieved when Louis finally asked for the check after playing footsie with Harry for close to fifteen minutes. He was getting twitchy again, nerves and anticipation taking over. Louis smiled with affection at Harry after he paid (Harry was adamant they split the check, despite Louis claiming he brought Harry on this date) and came back to the table with his hand held out. Harry reverently took it with rosy cheeks, curling his fingers around Louis’ own and revelling in the shock it sent through his entire body. He was led out of the restaurant and upstairs by Louis, seemingly unable to function now that all he’d wanted for almost two weeks was finally going to happen.

Louis could sense his nerves when they got back to their room. He led Harry over to his own bed and sat him down softly. He sat beside him, with a hand on Harry’s knee, rubbing soothing circles into his pants. Louis tucked a curl behind Harry’s ear, just as he had been throughout the entire trip. But that was what snapped Harry out of his nerves. He turned his upper body to face Louis’, and rested a warm palm against his jaw. His eyes flickered down to Louis’ lips, and he could see Louis doing the same to him. They both leaned in slowly, keeping their eyes on each other until the moment just before their lips touched, when Harry fluttered his eyes closed. When their mouths finally met, every cliché ignited within Harry’s body. He felt sparks, fireworks, lava flowing through his bones. He felt hot and alive, adrenaline coursing through his veins. They pulled back when they needed air, breaths heavy against each other’s cheeks. Louis smiled widely before pulling Harry back in with his hands around his neck. Their heads moved together, and Harry knew they fit perfectly. Louis’ tongue nudged at his bottom lip, and Harry parted them in response. It was like once they began, they couldn’t stop. The line had been crossed (about time, Harry couldn’t help but note) and Harry didn’t want to let go of Louis anytime soon, arms looped around his waist as Louis practically sat in his lap. He felt tingly all over, and judging by Louis’ fidgeting, he was feeling the same heady mix of emotions as Harry was. Eventually, after both boys had lost track of time, they parted for good, panting into each other’s mouths. Louis made to get up off Harry’s lap and he whined, pulling him back down. 

“Stay,” he mumbled into Louis’ neck. He felt rather than saw Louis sigh and nod, and at his acceptance Harry released him, crawling back to the head of the bed. They began undressing in silence, not moving from atop the blankets. When they were down to their pants Louis encouraged Harry up and untucked the sheets, both of them crawling in happily, sated but exhausted. They lay down facing each other and Harry couldn’t help but lean in to seal their lips together again now that he knew he could. 

After a sleepy smile, Harry turned onto his side. He glanced back over his shoulder at Louis and murmured, “cuddle me,” before dropping his head back to the pillow. Louis huffed in amusement but agreeably shuffled forward, latching onto Harry’s back, tangling their legs together and winding an arm over Harry’s stomach. It was the best night’s sleep either of them had gotten throughout the trip.

~

When they finally reached Biriatou on the border of France and Spain, it was with relieved cheers and fierce hugs. It had felt like it took forever to get there, stopping overnight in Parentis-en Born, Vielle-Saint-Girons and Biarritz. The only upside to so much exercise was that they had been walking along the coast since Bordeaux. The going had been much slower than expected, as Harry had to stop at every beach and splash about, pulling out his camera and filming him and Louis having fun. They even skinny-dipped at one point (though that wasn’t filmed) (and they avoided looking at each other’s dicks) (they didn’t want to move too fast). He liked to think that whatever he spliced together at the end would have two distinct parts. Before Louis, and After Louis. Because he knew that there was a difference in how he laughed and smiled, the constant affection that was visible in his eyes, all directed at Louis. And that was the other reason it took so long; that affection led to kisses every few yards. 

But eventually they made it, and they fell into the bed together with barely a goodnight’s kiss (they had started booking a room with only one bed now. It was significant). They were only stopping for a nap, as their next city wasn’t far from their current location, and they wanted to get a move on. When they woke it was a flurry of activity, checking they had their passports and their passes for the bus that would be taking them. They rushed through a light lunch and sprinted for the bus, making it just in time. The crossing was quicker than expected, a short stout man checking everyone’s passports before waving them through, although the traffic was a nightmare. Cars, buses and taxis everywhere, honking at one another for no apparent reason. Soon they were safely in Spain and away from the border. Louis and Harry said quick goodbyes to the people they’d met on the bus and set out for San Sebastian. San Sebastian was their second last stop, which Harry didn’t want to think about. It meant considering what would happen to him and Louis after Harry’s project was through, and while Harry didn’t have any real doubts about what Louis meant to him and vice versa, there were enough worst case scenarios that Harry blocked the whole thing from his mind. 

With only a three-hour walk from the border to San Sebastian, they hurried on, eager to get to the hotel before nightfall. With only a short amount of time left and a surprising abundance of money, they were booking better accommodation for themselves. It was a pleasant change. The sun was just beginning to set when they crossed into the city centre. They didn’t even bother to put their bags in their room, just gave them to the reception and left in search of dinner. It didn’t take them long to find a cosy little café that was open late. Both of them were at a disadvantage though, because neither of them spoke Spanish. They stumbled through their order; coffees and pastries all around, and then lapsed into a comfortable silence, nothing like their last dinner out.

“So,” Harry began, sliding his foot up Louis’ calf, “second date.” Louis smirked, breaking for a moment to thank the waitress for their coffees before returning his attention to Harry.

“It is, isn’t it?” He replied, leaning towards Harry. The neck of his shirt was loose, and Harry could see down his chest, which had his mouth watering. He wanted nothing more than to kiss Louis in this moment, and he fisted Louis shirt in his hand and pulled his body towards him, mindful of their mugs. They didn’t stop until the waitress politely interrupted them with a cough, placing their sweet and savoury pastries in front of them. Harry turned scarlet as Louis murmured a small “gracias” while rubbing circles into Harry’s back. They scoffed down the pastries, not realising how hungry they were until the sweet smell of edible heaven was in front of them. They shared a chocolate fondue for dessert, Louis licking and sucking the chocolate from Harry’s fingers with a smirk, basking in Harry’s shiver. There was an understanding between them that something was going to happen tonight, and the anticipation was curbing Harry’s motor skills. Louis deposited Harry outside and told him to wait before scuttling back inside to pay. Harry was out of it with lust and fondness that he didn’t notice Louis sneaking off to the supermarket down the road. 

Back at their hotel, Louis backed Harry up against the door and stood in his space, staring into his eyes. In one swift movement their shirts were off and Louis pressed again into Harry’s bare chest and they were touching from belly to toes. It was an intense feeling and Harry gasped, groaning at the feeling of being hot from Louis and simultaneously cool from the air against his skin. He couldn’t take it anymore and he bent down, picking Louis up and wrapping his legs around his waist, carrying him over to the bed. He gently lay him down and crawled on top, waiting to see Louis’ next move. He was confused when Louis reached into the pocket of his pants until he saw what he pulled out. He moaned – there was no misunderstanding now. He only hoped the walls were thicker than they looked.

~

23 hours and 30 minutes. That’s how long they had left until they reached their final destination. Of course, they had two nights in Bilbao, but the morning they left San Sebastian felt like the beginning of the end. A silver lining, Harry’s waddle slowed them down a bit. Two twelve hour walks, a night in Elgoibar and then they’d arrive. Despite the ever-increasing dread Harry was feeling the closer they got, he was also experiencing a great sense of accomplishment. He’d actually done it – he’d walked from Paris to Bilbao. His classmates laughed at him when he told them his assignment, told Harry he might as well give up now, and showed him their cushy assessments (like ‘write a poem about a traumatic event that happened in your life and reflect on how that’s changed you’. Yeah, thanks Professor). But he proved them wrong, and the evidence is all on his camera and billion SD cards. 

He wasn’t aware he was smiling until Louis asked what he was so happy about. In his mind in that moment there’s two answers. Instead of listing his excitement for the completion of his assignment, he chose the cheesy one and replied, “you.” Louis blushed and looked down, their clasped hands swinging between their bodies.

“You’re so cute, Lou.” Harry just wanted him to always know how cute and beautiful and lovely he was. 

“Little old me?” Louis asked bashfully.

“Always,” Harry replied, keeping his eyes straight ahead, because if he looked at Louis he was afraid he would say something neither of them were ready to hear.

Bilbao was sunny when they finally arrived and the sky a rich cornflower blue. It was an industrial port city, Harry hadn’t expected anything special, but in the soft afternoon light it seemed beautiful.

A stop over in their last hotel, Harry pulled out the list of things he wanted to do in Bilbao once they were back on the street. 

“Remember how I gave you that list in Paris?” Louis nodded. “This is like that.” He held it out tentatively. He wasn’t going to throw a tantrum if Louis didn’t want to do something on that list, but these were all things he’d been really looking forward to for two and a half weeks. Harry was tense as Louis looked over the short list. 

“These are fine, love,” (Harry died at the pet name) “we can do the theatre tonight, markets tomorrow morning, the parks and churches in the afternoon, opera that night and the museum before we leave,” Louis mused, internally working out the times.

Harry nodded sweetly and took Louis’ hand. “It’ll be wonderful Lou. How could it not be – you’re here.” With that, Harry led them down the street, this time with Louis following behind in a trance. They weren’t really dressed for the theatre, but it wasn’t like they could fix that in that second. They made it to the ticket office, and while the man in the booth raised an eyebrow at their outfits he didn’t refuse them entrance. Tickets bought, Harry towed Louis along the main avenue of Bilbao in search of dinner before ‘Buena gente’ began. Dinner was quick and they rushed back to the Teatro Arriaga. Again, they gained some looks but they were too immersed in each other and this new place to pay much attention. Before the play began, Louis leaned in to ask when they were going to see Niall. It warmed Harry’s heart to know that Louis thought of them as a unit, and if he wanted to meet Harry’s friends it must have be a sign he intended to stick around. Harry murmured back quietly that “maybe he could join them at the markets tomorrow?” Louis nodded and turned back to the stage, where the curtain was just being lifted.

That night, the two of them enjoyed each other’s company again, discussing the play like they weren’t both there before they were swept away by their dreams. In sleep, they curled around each other, seeking the other’s presence and comfort, and remained that way until they woke up.

Harry was up first, squinting at the time on his phone in the early morning light. He shot off a quick text to Niall, letting him know they arrived and asking him to meet them at Plaza Nueva in a few hours. Then he turned over to face Louis and just sat and admired him. The freckles on his cheeks, the scruff that appeared out of nowhere and the delicate features that set him apart from the rest of the world in Harry’s mind. Louis was something special, and he hoped more than anything he’d get to keep him.

Once he was more awake he sent off more texts to his family and friends, letting them know he’d arrived. The message to his mum had him a bit more hesitant, though. Right before he left Harry had promised not to shack up with any strangers while he was gone. And what had he done? The very first day of his journey and he managed to meet someone. He hoped his mum appreciated the coincidence. 

Their hotel room came with a small kitchenette, and Harry was up and making tea when Louis awoke. He came padding into the kitchen and straight into Harry’s arms, sleepy and soft, hair flat on his head. He nuzzled his face into Harry’s neck, who giggled at the feel of Louis’ stubble. He passed over a mug of tea and took one for himself, sipping gingerly at the mug. 

“I sent Niall a text, just got a reply saying he’s not in Bilbao anymore, apparently.” Louis almost spat out his tea.

“What! I thought you planned this whole thing specifically around seeing Niall?”

“Apparently my organisational skills are lacking. He left for Madrid yesterday.”

“You were so close.”

“I know,” Harry sighed, “I was looking forward to seeing him but it’s okay. We can have fun on our own!” He clapped his hands at his words and drained the dregs of his tea down the sink. In half an hour he was ready and needling Louis to hurry up so they could go. Finally Louis deemed himself ready and they set off for the Sunday markets with a map in Louis’ hand and a Spanish dictionary in Harry’s. It was beautiful, like nothing Harry had ever seen before. There were so many colours and it was so loud, Spanish thrown back and forth like fire, rapid and intense. He was so mesmerised he almost lost Louis, his grip on Louis’ hand slacking before Louis realised and yanked Harry back to his side. They were spoilt for choice on souvenirs, but eventually settled on buying something for each other. They decided that once they were on the plane back to London they’d swap. But for now, they moved on to the food stalls and then the churches.

Full of grand architecture, the churches and parks took them the better part of the day. They didn’t have much time to eat and shower before the opera. It was called ‘Powder her face’ and was about the Duchess of Argyll’s divorce in England in the 1960s. Harry was quite excited, as he’d read about this in Media Studies, until he realised he wouldn’t be able to understand a word ad just enjoyed the atmosphere. 

That night in their hotel was another quiet one, both determinedly not thinking about the fact that this was their last night together. Until that was all they could think about and they fell together with a passion that even then belied the extent of their feelings for each other. 

Their final morning together started with solemnity, silence in the kitchen and as they packed. They prepared for their departure from the hotel, glancing around and already reminiscing. Breakfast was eaten out that morning, at a small café a few minutes’ walk from their hotel. A fruit platter for Harry and a big breakfast for Louis, accompanied by tea and coffee and silence. Harry had no idea what to say. He had no idea how to broach the subject of forever with Louis when they hadn’t even known each other three weeks. So it was with a sigh that they stood, paid, and walked to the Guggenheim. This was what Harry had been waiting for, Frank Gehry’s masterpiece tourist attraction, redeveloping Bilbao from empty to bustling. But he couldn’t enjoy it, even as they strolled through the permanent collection, pausing in the middle of one of the pieces in the installation ‘The Matter of Time’. It was silent around them, but in the sense that the rest of the world was blocked out by the giant orange walls. He pulled Louis to a stop in front of him and stared into his tired eyes.

“I’m going to miss you,” he clearly enunciated, wanting Louis to know and understand how seriously he meant it. “I’ll miss you so much when you’re not with me, but I’m not letting you go.” Louis’ eyes were watering, his vision blurring. No one had ever looked at him with so much raw emotion before, and the fact that it was Harry just threw him over the edge further. “Do you understand me, Lou?” Louis nodded so fast he thought he might pull something. But God, he understood. He never wanted to let Harry go, and now that he knew Harry wanted the same thing? Now that he was certain that Harry wanted forever too? He had no plans to.

Could you fall in love in two and a half weeks? They certainly thought so.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked it, feel free to let me know :) or if you hated it. Remember to support Ficathon by reading the others' great fics and donating to the charities if you can! If not, just spread the word, every little bit helps.


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